


Of Potions and Curses

by -yangtangliu (timeisaconstruct)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten is a Warlock, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten is very much in love, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten-centric, Curses, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT) is Bad at Feelings, Mark Lee (NCT) is Cursed, Potions, This doesn't really have any mature themes but it's still heavy so, Witchcraft, take the title literally ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeisaconstruct/pseuds/-yangtangliu
Summary: Ten looks up in surprise, swishing his hands around the purple smoke omitting from his potion he had been attempting to finish. It was a delicate task, potion making, especially when you are making it with the intention to heal. Ten couldn’t filter pettiness or unhappiness, or else it was doomed to fail and go sour.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Of Potions and Curses

**Author's Note:**

> i dunno whats with me and posting angsty fics, aside from my new series, but i hope you enjoy regardless. the conte for this is in the ending notes, and if you wanna read it know you can i just changed a bit of the original drabble.

_POOF._

Purple smoke explodes in his face and Ten looks up in surprise, swishing his hands around the purple smoke omitting from his potion he had been attempting to finish. It was a delicate task, potion making, especially when you are making it with the intention to heal. Ten couldn’t filter pettiness or unhappiness, or else it was doomed to fail and go sour. Mark had been in critical condition for a while, refusing to let Ten touch his injuries so they would heal faster. He’d be more mad about it too — if he didn’t spend all day in his makeshift care room in the back of his cottage. 

Though there isn’t much Ten can do other than this, when the people who hurt him and the way in which he was hurt was done purely out of the rage of the magic, of someone with the gift flowing through their bones using it on a whim carelessly. _Too carelessly,_ since Mark ended up getting hurt so bad that no medicine Ten could supply him would help. The bruises and cuts he carried weren’t ones that were inflicted lightly, and they would be ever so hard to remove if it weren’t for salves of the witches and spells of the warlocks. Though nowadays Mark had the aura of a dying grandfather, and his actions spoke no louder. This potion Ten had been trying to perfect for over a month was his last hope, and he could already feel himself beginning to break down thinking of what would happen if it was false. But magic does not lie, and she wafts through his ears like a song, reminding him that he is not alone, and that Mark may die someday, but that day is not today.

Ten would be slightly unsure and maybe sour if it was any other colour or if he knew it wasn’t supposed to happen, but the smoke was exactly the right thing to make sure the potion worked correctly. It was for growing bones back, and Ten had been experimenting with trying to make it as painless as possible, but magic was not always kind to him. But purple smoke was a sign of painlessness, and for Ten’s patient he knew deep down that Mark wouldn’t have to go through any more pain. Magic had whispered praises and congratulations for finally achieving what he had worked so hard for, and Ten knew after only a few decades with her that she would never lie to him. She was simply the guide in this endless lifetime.

Potion making was always a difficult task, because even if someone wrote down recipes, it was always different for each of the magic folk. Magic tells him that every witch or warlock must have their way with magic; he thinks that it is her special way of torturing the magic folk till they figure their own methods out. Besides that, due to the modern age in which Ten grew up in, most witch trusted modern medicine (including himself) and didn’t bother with potions if a doctor who went to school could do it for you. Ten believed that since magic was always changing, you couldn’t use it (and by default potions) for everything unless you knew all that there was to know. But Mark was _really_ having him out for his money. Ten smiled as he picked up the tea cup he had been working in carefully. Potions can be delicate and it is hard to drink out of a vial or glass bottle, and coupled with the fact that this could most likely only be taken in a short amount of time he had to be careful not to spill and fast enough to help his patient. 

Watching the shrouded figure of the skinny boy, Ten often finds himself wondering if he ever knew him in the first place. Once he did, Magic reminds him with a memory, that when they had first met Mark had been a lively young boy who easily trusted kind strangers and lived with his aunt and uncle. Ten knew him from his visits to his stalls in town, and how he always had something to say and loved them like his own. He was the friendliest person Ten had met since he had decided to settle down on the outskirts of town not long ago. It was only after he looked the wrong way that someone set upon this terrible fate on him, cursing him. It was terrible that they had reduced him to a broken animal who refused everyone's help. _Everyone but him,_ Ten sadly smiled, thinking about how Mark had refused all his friends after a short while, spending his days here in Ten’s little cottage.

If Ten was able to track spells, curses, potions, and other forms of magic he would hunt the magic folk down and make sure they regretted what he had done to Mark but magic was not one to welcome things like rage that could swiftly turn into revenge, short lived victory, and pride and envy. _They were not good things to have as a one of magic folk,_ Magic said, swirling around his thoughts and reminding him. Some witches and warlocks choose to ignore magic, but Ten knew he should embrace her, for she was the only one who could lead him a long when times were hard. _Besides,_ she says, _you wouldn’t want to rule with emotion when you could rule with virtue,_ and Ten trust her more than his life. _He wouldn’t._

Ten sets the cup of swirling and bubbling lilac down on a matching plate underneath, and he crossed the room to bring it to Mark’s bedside, but he only groaned after hearing the small clink that was him setting it down from where his face was tufted in a pillow. Ten needed him to sit up, but he knew for the things that Mark had gone through, it would be better to go about these things slower. “Mark,” He coaxes, and Mark barely moves or makes a sound, like most times when he tried in the past to give him medicine. “Come on baby, we have to do this.” 

Mark had always known that modern medicine wouldn’t heal him, and the few times he did try the strongest medicine Ten housed, it didn’t work. Even if Mark’s injuries were simply common bruises and cuts to stop him from performing daily tasks easily, Mark still had always been fragile from the inside out, and the curse only amplified that and refused to be cured at the hands of modern medicine. Later, the longer he stayed, Mark had started refusing to let Ten clean his wounds — Ten was a warlock, but he was so under talented that he wasn't sure he could fix what _they_ had done to Mark, what a high level warlock or witch had inflicted — and it had only gotten worse when he wouldn’t get up. He wouldn’t let him take himself to a more powerful magic folk than Ten himself, and some days Ten wondered if he planned on dying here, in his cottage, and leaving him alone. 

Seeing how he thought he was getting off easy like he usually did, Ten tapped his head lightly and resorted to shaking his body slightly. “Mark, my love, please get up.” He only used endearments when he felt really bad about disturbing him, but considering how Ten has let him stay here for as long as he has without saying anything shows how much his devotion bleeds through and his statement proves false.

Ten gets a groan in response, and looks down back at the result of the potion, the cup of light lilac tea swirling around by the components he put in it. A few bubbles popped before the springs of the old bed were heard moving and another groan was heard. Ten looked up with a snap of his head, too see Mark with his twisted face and unruly and unbrushed hair, He hadn’t let Ten touch his face and slow healing cuts in days, nor brush his hair that was full of the excess particles from the cotton pillow. He had simply laid there, eating the food he left at his bedside while staring off into space from the small viewpoint he had while laying down.

“Are you ready?” _Do you trust me,_ goes unsaid but Ten has a feeling he hears anyways. Magic toys quiet, and while Ten does not know whether the sign is good or bad he continues on anyways, wondering if she holds her breath intune with her. Mark only blinks, he hasn’t spoken in a while either, but Ten knows there's no other reason than the purple concoction he holds in his hand. He gets a slight nod after a few moments, and Then gives him a small smile at the sight of life in his dull brown eyes. “Okay,” He trails off. “Let’s do this.”

Ten places the cup at his lips, and Mark swallows, but his face does not turn in disgust or drink it at a faster rate than from the first point of tasting it. He does not change, his eyes open in only an acceptable fashion, his breath rate not changing, and when he places a hand on his wrist, his heart beat does not change. _The voices that haunt him have taught him well. He will not stand for it._ The purple concoction flows down his throat like packages on a runway, and he is simply the vessel carrying the liquid to its final destination. He merely drinks in time with the ticking of a clock and lets Ten pour the rest of the potion down his throat. 

They wait patiently as Ten pulls it back only slightly, Mark giving him what looks like almost a hooded gaze of what he would call lust in another lifetime as his eyes start to droop and his arms fall limp at his side as if they were never in his lap in the first place. A movement is seen underneath his blanket, and Ten pulls it back to look underneath, as it is unusual for mark to purposefully move nowadays. Something moves again and Ten pulls up his shirt, watching as the swelling dies down and becomes sweet milky skin once again on his side. He looks up to see the cuts and bruises that litter Mark’s face slowly disappear and the look that accompanies them. A miracle. 

When Ten looked up and Marks eyes widened, laced with something he might resonate with wonder. It has been quite a while since he has seen emotion in him, and almost takes him by surprise if it weren’t for the extreme tension of this act. “Ten,” He whispers to him, voice horse for he has not used it in what feels like millenia. “Ten.”

“Yes, my sweet child?” He smiles, feeling his chest tighten at what might as well be his first words and he feels his eyes get watery with the second time. It’s been a while since he’s heard his voice, and even if it’s rough with misuse Ten still feels like crying that the first words to come out of his mouth are his name.

“You’ve done it, y-you,” Mark stutters, and tears form in his eyes from frustration, happiness, and some other things Ten won’t delve into. He knows that Mark had given up on everything a long time ago, he had given in too what the thoughts in his head wanted him to believe, and Ten had seen it clearly for a while. It was only him who he still blindly trusted in this affair, and it truly meant more than he could imagine. “You saved me.”

“Only for you my love.” Ten smiles, almost serenely, looking down at him and his voice comes out watery and broken.

 _“Why?”_ Mark brings a hand up to brush away his tears from his own flushed face as he looks down, no doubt slowly getting a headache. Ten knows he would do anything for him, he will vow to that statement till his eternity ends. “Why did you save me? Why did you bother?”

“Mark.” Ten smiles, pretending he isn’t crying. “Mark, _baby.”_ He cups his face with his hands, something he feels he hasn’t done in a long time. “Why wouldn’t I save you? Why wouldn’t I put everything on the line for you? For you are my love, the only one in this endless lifetime.”

“Because I haven’t done anything to deserve it. I do not deserve your love.” He sniffles but doesn’t bring up any hands to stop it because Ten’s hands find him in the lost expanse of his white sheets, curling around his hands to hold him close and tight. Ten can feel magic swirling his tendrils around himself and in turn Mark, even if he cannot see or feel her grip. She tells Ten to speak his mind, that while he may be here for long after everyone Mark knows and loves will die, Mark will stay by his side, will stay happy, will get out of this rough patch. It’s all Ten needs to keep going, taking a deep breath and feeling the way his and Mark’s breath fall in sync as he thinks over his next words. His grip tightens, voice coming out in a whisper. _“Mark,_ I did it because I love you. Please listen and believe me.”

“You do?”

His throat tightens, and Ten feels he will not be able to conceal his emotions for much longer. He looks down and his voice comes out breather than he expected, and higher pitched than it usually does. Ten smiles down at him, hoping Mark feels as much as en feels for him. “I love you so much, if only you had started listening earlier.”

Mark’s hands wiggle their way out of his grasp, but they are barely in his way when Ten would do anything for this poor boy who has been with him for over a year, battling fire with air, unsure of what he is doing wrong. If he wants something he can have it, because that is how devoted he is. Ten will never try to stand in his way, not if he can help it. Shaking hands clutch at Ten’s shirt, black cotton, pulling it out of his pants and shaking it like a madlad might. Mark doesn’t look up, but Ten still hears the whisper of words on his lips. “I know,” Mark’s hands stop, gripping tightly at his shirt but no longer moving for a few short moments, before he pulls Ten forward by his shirt and his arms come around his sides to hug him tightly. 

“I was scared, but now I know and I love you too.” Ten feels tears silently slipping down his cheeks without his permission, but h e knows his body cannot take anymore. “I always have, I just needed your guidance.” His voice is as soft and broken as before, but it’s the only thing that sends Ten stumbling over the edge, letting Mark hold him as he lets out all of the feelings bottled up inside himself, sobbing into his chest. Mark takes it with his hands around his waist, holding in a way Ten has missed all too much, and while he does not say anything, the steady beat of his heart is enough to keep Ten grounded from doing something he cannot say. 

He may live on to see the true end of the world, but he will _never_ forget his time living out a lifetime with Mark by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Is Ten insane? No. Does Mark need help? Yes… Was this originally a drabble from two pictures [ fullmarks](https://twitter.com/fullmarks) aka [ RoamingSignals ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoamingSignals) did for a thread? I’d rather not answer… anyways follow them pls they're cool haha and maybe follow [ me](https://twitter.com/pR38RElQQxK1iiu) on twitter too haha I want friends!!  
> 
> 
> [ hit me up on curious cat ](https://curiouscat.me/litteralydonghyuck)


End file.
